


No Odds Stacked

by ridorana



Category: Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy XII
Genre: FFX AU, M/M, summoner/guardian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridorana/pseuds/ridorana
Summary: When the acolytes opened the temple doors for them to meet their charge, Balthier had expected another drab, hollow puppet of Yevon parroting tired scripture like a drone; someone Balthier honestly wouldn’t mind seeing straight into death’s maw if it meant he could fly the skies again, free from sentence, free from Sin clogging up his sky, and in peace.What he had not expected was Vaan. In every sense of it, he could have never expected Vaan.





	No Odds Stacked

The Thunder Plains are not exactly on Balthier's list of top five leisure stops in Spira, but they do make an excellent hideaway for a tryst between summoner and guardian. Inside the dry comfort of their inn room, it’s dark and quiet and warm, and the only thing wet is the hot slide of Vaan's tongue against Balthier’s. Outside, the heavens pour in a violent deluge, but they both are oblivious to the storm, lost instead within each other; desperate, deep, and adoring. A low rumble of thunder sifting through the air explodes into a roar outside, and Vaan jumps in his arms, before laughing against Balthier’s mouth.

“Shhhh,” the guardian soothes, though he’s smirking too in the dimness of the room, fond of the jumpy little blond from a village of fair weather and sunshine. Vaan’s like to have never heard a storm like this. Truth be told, neither has Balthier.

But Vaan doesn’t have to know that.

“m’not scared.” Vaan nips his jaw and it sends a shiver of heat from Balthier’s neck down to the throbbing hot ache between his legs. “Just startled me is all.”

The storm is uncharacteristically loud. Balthier’s been here before, with Fran in their pirating days; back when the Strahl took to the clouds instead of collecting dust in a Yevonite compound, held captive until this dark deed of guiding Vaan 'til this pilgrimage is done. That reality, though, hovers darker within Balthier than any storm the heavens could conjure upon Spira.

He tries not to think on it. He’s tried not to think on it ever since Vaan’s wormed his way into his heart.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Their sentence had been simple: rot in a dungeon for the crimes against the Yevonite artifact they stole and attempted to pawn, or guard a summoner through his pilgrimage.

The choice had been easy, then.

Now? Balthier wishes he had reconsidered.

When the acolytes opened the temple doors for Balthier and Fran to meet their charge, he had expected another drab, hollow puppet of Yevon parroting tired scripture like a drone; someone Balthier honestly wouldn’t mind seeing straight into death’s maw if it meant he could fly the skies again, free from sentence, free from Sin clogging up his sky, and in peace.

What he had not expected was Vaan. In every sense of it, he could have never expected Vaan. As a summoner, as a coincidence, as anything to sail into Balthier’s life, his arms, his heart. He never expected Vaan.

Balthier's heart lurches in his chest, an achingly familiar twist that comes with every swift breath that reminds him of the inevitable. How ironic, to dive into the comfort provided by the very thing he preemptively mourns. He tries not to think about that either, thinks instead of Vaan's soft, warm flesh, and the weight of him draped atop Balthier's hips. Balthier brings him closer, lowering Vaan down to his mouth with a hand along his jaw to kiss him deeply until those lips soothe away that seed of anguish rooted too deep to unearth now.

The guardian wraps his charge tight in his arms, and rakes a leisure hand down his smooth back, curling his fingers in a teasing drag of his nails. Vaan wrenches away from their kiss with a gasp.

“That,” he pants, “Do that more. Again.” His request is breathless and needy. Balthier cannot deny him. Once more he scratches down Vaan’s back, a little harder this time, until he can feel heat beneath his dull nails in the wake of it. “Yeah,” Vaan says, against Balthier’s neck now, where the little hellion begins to suck and nip. Hickeys aren’t exactly Balthier’s style - haven’t been since he was oh, past fifteen, probably - but Vaan’s white magick lends well to wounds and he’ll have it fixed in the morning. For now, he allows Vaan the juvenile indulgence…deny it as Balthier might, it feels good, and he lets Vaan know with a moan.

The sound proves vocally encouraging enough for the virgin atop him. Vaan is eager to learn, eager to please and be pleased; Balthier, in turn, revels in Vaan’s hungry exploration that grows more bold with each passing tryst, teasing the edge of lavish debauchery every time. And so Vaan does it more, trailing his tongue along his guardian’s neck, down towards Balthier's collarbone where the sensitive skin there awaits Vaan’s mouth. It sends little lightning jolts of pleasure coursing through Balthier's nerves, like static in the thunderous air outside. Vaan wants and Balthier lets him have it. Splayed beneath Vaan, Balthier gives his summoner chance at his own pace going only so far as Vaan wishes.

This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, no, but when Vaan takes his own initiative and grinds down against Balthier, his hips speak of a curious and eager friction and that’s a first. Balthier bites his own kiss-swollen lips as he feels his cock twitch beneath the baggy nightclothes. He’s so hard, and Vaan is too. When Balthier speaks next, his voice is a struggle to smooth out.

“Is there something you want, Vaan?” Balthier says, though he has never wanted something more in his life. “Use your words.” Normally such explicit consent isn’t part of his usual bedroom repertoire; body language and the art of subtle seduction is enough for his intuition, usually. But usually, he doesn’t have a squirming, hot, hard virgin in his bed. And though he wishes and wants and dreams of Vaan writhing beneath him, naked and begging, his own guardian tendencies birthed from this serendipitous plight are enough to rein in his own lust.

He wants Vaan to be sure about this. And he wants Vaan to be sure about this, with him.

Oh, it’s selfish and depraved, a filthy desire birthed from his pirate heart. To take, to hide away, to keep for his own, all for his own. He wants to hear the summoner say them. And so when Vaan lifts his head and locks eyes with Balthier, pupils blown and mouth slicked with the wake of Balthier’s kiss, he says _'I want more, please, can we?'_ And Balthier could never deny him, even if he wanted. He reaches a hand up to caress Vaan's face, where in the dark he knows its shape, the milliseconds between a cheekbone to a dimple, the distance between the whimsical lilt of his nose to his lips. When lightning flashes through the curtains, it sends shocks of light through the room, peppering them both briefly in violently white strobes of light. Balthier's breath catches in the moment Vaan hovers over his lips. ' _Please?'_

"I will give you as much as you let me."

"I'll take as much as you'll give."

The sound of their kiss is lost in the thunder that follows. 

For a moment in this quiet little orbit, there is no war, there is no Sin, there are no odds stacked against them; there is only peace, only Balthier's touch soft along Vaan's face, only Vaan's lips delicate along Balthier's bird-light pulse, only this, only this, only this.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my tumblr for the better part of like, a year and some months. I have so, so many BalVaan AU's that have never seen the light, but I might give this one a go. There’s a lot more to it. Thoughts?


End file.
